


There Is A Sun Girl On Stage

by Barnil (Jus)



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Alternative Universe - No Superheroes, Gen, genderbent character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7388857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jus/pseuds/Barnil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no escaping going at his little brother’s show.<br/>Great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There Is A Sun Girl On Stage

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little something I had to write after going to see ballet this weekend. Thankfully it ddn't develop into a full story so I could get it out quick and well. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it !

He hated doing this. He was working, for fuck’s sake; but that hadn’t decided his brother to let the matter drop. He had talked about it with his boss back in Washington, but apparently this would help with his cover.  
So basically, there was no escaping going at his little brother’s show. The flight had been a nightmare (who still allowed babies and toddlers on a plane???), his taxi driver hadn’t complied to his _very polite_ “please turn the volume down, man” and now he had to go to a theater show in the middle of Broadway in the middle of July. The ticket had been waiting for him at the hotel’s counter with his key, in an envelope and with a written message from Clint.  As he got to his room and without any remorse, he threw the paper in the bin. Didn’t Clint know about _phones_ and _text messages_? Goddamnit.

**i threw your message away. what’d it say?**

**u’re a pain. tell the people u’re my bro, they’ll put u at the right seat.**

**k, see you later**

He had time. He folded his ticket neatly in his jacket’s only pocket before stripping down and heading to the shower.

It often made him laugh how different were their paths. As kids, Clint and him had been as close as one could imagine –with a father such as theirs, it wasn’t a surprise. But as they grew up, they grew apart. It was like they had exhausted all their capacity to stand one another during their earliest years. During their adolescence, it wasn’t uncommon for them to fight. Sometimes, they went days without uttering a word one to another. And then, Barney nearly abandoned Clint. He had had a chance to enter the army; he had never been good at school, whereas Clint had the possibility to do something of his life. However, the instructors had seen something in him Barney had overlooked. Resilience. A will to do right. Cunningness. They had suggested he realized further studies and then he could try to get into the FBI.  
The freaking FBI. That had been a better offer than Barney could’ve ever hoped for. Clint, on the other hand, had hated it. He hadn’t been as reckless, always the quieter, the dreamer of them both. When he had followed a path in Theatre, Barney had said nothing, but he had smiled. They both had chosen their life, and it was so different than the monster that loomed over their head, even after all these years; that he could only be happy. They were drifting away, on their own, but he could tell without a doubt they weren’t gonna end like their father, ever.

The shower wasn’t as hot as he hoped it’d be, but he still welcomed the water happily. He was cramped in the small box, looking at his own reflection in the mirror over the sink for an instant before dropping his gaze. He hoped Clint wouldn’t mind seeing him again. It had been a few months, maybe a few years? He had no idea, actually, he didn’t keep track. He was consumed by work, as they would say. But he knew he looked the spitting image of their late father a bit more with every day that passed, and he would hate to make Clint uncomfortable. But then the younger of them had asked, begged even, that he come to see one of the last representation of the show. They had done really good, apparently –even Barney, in his work-consumed routine, had glanced here and there news reports and a few adverts. If he remembered correctly, it was a hip-hop take on a Shakespeare play, one of the funny ones, and they now had played on Broadway for a few months.  
They both had made it.

* * *

 Okay, he hadn’t made much of an effort, but at least his clothes were clean. All around him, he could see women in cocktail dresses and men in tuxes. And yet, he noticed he made heads turn, even in his simplest slacks and a mismatched jacket, unpolished shoes and a stark white shirt, opened at the collar.  
He wasn’t sure if it was his usual head-turning or that people wondered what the fuck a man looking that underdressed was doing around. “I didn’t get the memo like y’all about the dress code,” he even muttered just before the large doors opened as his patience was wearing thin and his paranoia growing. The hall didn’t look like much, or at least not for what he could tell from his special agent experience. He told the young man who checked his ticket that he was Clint’s brother and was led to a special box where he was left alone.  
The ring started, but no one had joined him. He started to feel just a bit guilty; if it was the families’ box, he was just the very last one to be watching the show. Soon enough, the lights dimmed and a mic crackled. “ _Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that tonight’s show will open with a preview of 20 minutes of our next show; because of this the entr’acte will take place after Act One and not Act Two. I bid you a nice evening in name of the whole company. Thank you._ ” Great. He deflated in his seat; he really didn’t need these 20 minutes more of show. He had a whole operation to prepare with the NYC teams, he was tired to his bones, and he was already grouchy. The room grew darker as he remained alone.

**you could’ve told me i had 20 minutes more to shower**

**they wouldn’t have let u in, stop bein a grump**

It wasn’t a bad thing he was utterly alone. Because of course, the next show had to be an obscure ballet, and its choreography seemed dubious at best. He wasn’t a professional, but the repeated patterns the numerous ballerinas followed just made a good job at lulling him to sleep. The music was nice, however –probably a great composer. Not contemporary, definitely.

And then she happened. She was the main dancer, she had to be –the man didn’t just led her on stage like most of the ballerinas had been, but was carrying her. He perked up in his seat, a bit afraid – she had her arms up in the air, and she resembled a figurehead on a huge, ancient ship. And from that point, he was at loss. He kept his eyes on her, a small frame on stage lost in the sea of the other dancers –the ballerinas had blue ensembles. But she was in yellow, and it matched Barney’s feelings : she was a sun, illuminating the rest of the cast. Time sped up. He had never experienced that, but in a whirl, the dancers were all standing in line to salute. He could see now that her chest was heaving from all the effort, but her smile was even more brilliant than previously. For the first time since he saw her, he looked around –some people had gotten up and clapped enthusiastically, standing up. He didn’t feel bad for having been enraptured by her, her, how could he define it in a word, he couldn’t. Just by her, by Sun Girl. He stood up too and clapped along.  
The grin on his face only appeared at the surface of his conscience when his cheeks started hurting.

Clint’s show was good. He liked it, he wasn’t going to lie; but he wouldn’t have come to watch it on his own. That was kinda bad to admit for a big brother, but what do you want. Sooner than he predicted, Act One was coming to an end. As the lights lit up, people got out of the room to flood the atrium, but Barney was doing fine on his seat. He extended his legs comfortably and his mind brought up the girl from before. He wondered if she knew Clint. It hadn’t been said if both shows were performed by the same company, but deep, deep down Barney prayed that she was part of Clint’s friends. He had never met any of them, except Natasha Romanov. He was even surprised he hadn’t spotted her bright red hair in the ballet, he had understood she was their best ballerina. She should’ve probably been first dancer or whatever instead of the Sun Girl. Not that he was complaining.  
The door in his back creaked, and Clint’s face appeared, framed by his spiked hair. He squealed –literally, what man would squealed so loudly at seeing his _brother_ \- and pushed by the seats to hug him.

“It’s been so long, Barney,” Clint muttered in his shoulder. Barney prayed for his little brother’s eyes dryness.  
“Yeah, I know, I know. But work.” He shrugged a bit. “That’s a great show you guys are giving. Lotsa fancy people.”  
“Yeah, no one thought it’d be so popular. We got a nice article in the Times –we didn’t even know someone from the Times was there!- and boom. And you, how are things?”  
“Fine, mostly. Got a lot on my plate, and I’m only here for a few days, maybe only hours. Depends on how things develop.”  
“Awh, that’s a shame. You got a hotel room and everything?” Clint’s brow furrowed, and Barney should’ve never told him about that dreadful night under the Brooklyn Bridge all those years ago. “Otherwise you can sleep on my couch.”  
“With your dog?” Barney snorted. “Thanks but I’ll pass.”  
“Alright, alright.” He glanced at Barney’s watch and swore. “I have to go. See you later, you’re waiting for me at the end, yes?”  
“Yes, I will,” answered Barney with a roll of his eyes. With a bit of luck he’ll get to say hi to Sun Girl. “We’ll go eat pizza afterwards, my treat.” And Sun Girl, maybe. Please, let Sun Girl be a friend of Clint’s.  
“I love you,” only said Clint after squeezing him one last time.

He exited the box quickly, Barney returning to his lazy slouch facing the stage. He heard his brother’s voice talking excitingly to someone named Phil in the corridor, but he couldn’t make the soft reply out. He hoped that the guy would be has discreet as his voice if he was to sit there with him. When the door creaked again, Barney made a point not to turn around.

“Hey,” said the soft voice, Midwest accent present, not as thick as his own but finding a middle ground with Clint’s which had turned completely New-York. “Are you Clint’s brother?” It was a girl, he realized as the question caught the voice up.  
“Yeah,” he turned around and, oh, shit. He was 80% sure that was Sun Girl. “Barney Barton,” he got out with a lopsided smile and presenting his hand. Fuck. Didn’t artists like the cheek-kiss French bullshit?  
“I’m Phil Coulson!” She shook his hand enthusiastically, unaware of his mental gymnastics to not stare at her.  
“Uhm, congrats on the ballet… You were in that preview, right?” He tried not to wince at his lame attempt of finding out if she was really Sun Girl.  
“Yes I was! The yellow dancer.” She smiled brighter, and sure she was Sun Girl. She gave off that same vibe, and now she had confirmed it. “I’m new in the company, so I’m finished for tonight. You won’t mind if I stay up here before joining Clint?”  
“No, of course not!” He swallowed hardly, his throat closing around a bad feeling, “You’ve known Clint for long?”  
“Not much,” she answered evasively, “but I think we’re good friends nonetheless. He was really down after Natasha left for Paris, and I happened to arrive at that moment. He’s a sweet guy.”  
“Oh, I see.” He tried not to look surprised, but the truth was taking more and more space as they spoke. He had lost touch with his brother and the two men were nearly strangers to one another. “We don’t talk much, Clint and I. I had no idea she left the company…”  
“That’s what he said; he says that’s cause you have a very important job. He talks a lot about you if he’s in the right mood.”  
“Right mood?” This girl kept surprising him.  
“Nostalgic. Nothing bad, don’t you worry.” She grinned and sat down on the seat just next to his. “The show’s gonna start back, now. Shhh.”

She had seated right next to him; when she had the whole box to sit, she had chosen to sit in his vicinity. He could feel Sun Girl’s –no, Phil’s, his mind provided- warmth seeping through her arm, casually fitted against his on the armrest. His breath caught a bit in his throat, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to move from the spot. Next to him, she clapped politely as the room receded to its darkest.

Her hair was still lightly curled from being trapped in a bun.

* * *

 He relished in the surprised look on Clint’s face as he emerged from the artists’ door of the theater. Barney had jokingly offered his arm to Phil but the girl had taken it. She clung at him, it was like she was used to that move as if it was a cue she had rehearsed for. She leaned unashamedly against him as they talked, and he had decided against putting his jacket back on. It was a hot night of July, after all, and he had a delicious Sun Girl at his arm. In no way he was drawing away from that.  
Clint’s brows were raised in a comical manner, but he smiled sweetly, like he could’ve predicted he was gonna find them like that. Phil waved from her free hand as he approached, but made no move towards her friend. Clint didn’t either, just sending them both curious looks, and Barney’s heart soared. They weren’t a thing. He was not third-wheeling.  
No, but he was driven to make his little brother third-wheel very soon. Not tonight, sure; tonight they were having pizza like a pair of brothers, he wasn’t gonna impose that on poor Clint after so long without seeing each other. They walked for a while, Phil slowly leaving him more and more space, without letting go completely nonetheless. He hadn’t looked precisely before, but she was even more underdressed than he was. It made him smile, because she resembled Clint strongly in sweats and a pair of sneakers, and talking excitedly with her hands. Her face was cleared from all stage make-up, even if smudges of blush were still sitting high on her cheekbones. Or maybe that was natural blushing.

“You staying with us, Phil?” Barney hadn’t realized they were finally in front of the pizzeria Clint kept talking about when they were on the phone. He looked at Clint, a bit lost.  
“Can I? I mean, I thought that was a brotherly night.” She turned questioning eyes to him.  
“Of course you can!” he found himself a bit insulted that she thought he wouldn’t like her to stay around. “You’re gonna need to eat too, Miss.”

She giggled and passed the door he was holding, entering the building after Clint. Barney followed, his mind exploring all the possibilities. At worst, he just met one of his brother’s colleague. At best, love at first sight wasn’t so much bullshit as he thought it was; and the middle ground he hoped to find was that attraction at first sight was a thing, and love could only grow from that point.


End file.
